Insomnia
by Milk and Glass
Summary: Mark and Addison oneshot fic. The couple experiences the effects of a newborn who just won't sleep and bond together over it.


No one tells you what it's really like to have a baby. No one tells you that breastfeeding feels like someone's chewing off your nipples. No one tells you that diapers have explosive qualities. Most of all, no one tells you that having a baby means you sacrifice your sleep.

"Fuck this," Addison mumbles, chucking "What To Expect When You're Expecting" across the room. "I can't sleep when he sleeps. He never ever sleeps!"

Mark's lying on his stomach in the king-sized bed, his face buried in his pillow. "Tell me about it. Between your complaining and his crying, I haven't slept in days."

Addison scowls. "The next thing I throw will be at your ungrateful head. This is your fault. You knocked me up. And you won't even go and get him!"

As if on cue, the heart-tugging, reedy wail of Nicholas James Montgomery-Sloan starts up from the crib at the other end of the room. A month and a half old, he's a fat, olive-skinned little boy with Mark's blue eyes and a hint of Addison's red hair. He does everything perfectly – he latches on effortlessly; he goes to anyone who will rock him; he doesn't have colic. However, Nicky has an aversion to sleep – and he saves all the crying he doesn't do during the day for the night, which, of course, doesn't please his parents one bit.

Addison struggles out of bed, feeling her C-section scar pull painfully. "Mark, please get him next time. You know I shouldn't be walking much."

"It's been more than a month, Addie. I worked fourteen hours today. Forgive me if I don't snap to attention." His voice sounds exhausted and somewhere in her heart, Addison does feel for him. However, she's the one that has to spend all hours of the day feeding Nicky, rocking Nicky, changing all of Nicky's diapers that invariably leak into the cute Baby Gap sleepers that she'd had so much fun picking out before he was born. Now, she has a pile of stained, smelly laundry, cracked nipples, and a baby who just won't sleep.

"It takes six weeks to heal," she snaps back, knowing that it's been more than six weeks and that she needs to call her gynecologist and walks into the next room, over to Nicky's crib. She wants it in their room; she's the one that breastfeeds and getting up and down at three AM when you're extremely sleep-deprived can be one of the hardest physical tasks she's ever endured. But Mark refuses.

"No, Addie – I'm sorry, I love Nicky, but I don't want him in our room at night. When I sleep, I need to get a good night's sleep or I can't do my job. You of all people know that!"

"So why can't you sleep in the spare room?" Addison's aware that she's being a bit unreasonable, but she can't understand his objections. This is their son, after all.

Mark sighs, pushing a hand through his hair. "Because I think that as co-owner of this house, your husband, and supposedly the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, I have a right to sleep in my own bed, beside my wife."

She frowns. "Fine, but you have to promise to bring him to me when he cries, then. At least for now."

"Fine."

A month later, Mark conveniently sleeps through every one of Nicky's cries. He's gotten him a few times and helps all he can through the day when he's home, but a tired Mark is a cranky Mark and at night, he puts his foot down.

Addison cradles Nicky against her chest. "Hey, sweetheart. Shh. Mommy's here." She pats his back and rocks him, but far from being comforted, he opens his toothless mouth and wails more loudly. She sits with him in the rocking chair and opens her shirt for him, wincing as he latches on right away and feeds frantically. It's like hot glass being ground on her nipples – she actually feels tears come to her eyes and she whispers, "Ouch."

Nicky finishes and claws thoughtfully at Addison's breast before he opens his blue eyes and regards her. She smiles down at him. "I don't know why you can't sleep at night, little guy."

In response, he starts to cry again. "Of course," Addison mutters, and raises him to her shoulder to burp him. He throws up all over the shoulder of her nightgown and then burps. He also fills his diaper, and from the sounds of it, he's also filled his sleeper. Addison's had it. "Mark!"

No response. She bellows again. "Mark Sloan, get your ass in here, now! I don't care how tired you are! Help me!"

He stumbles to the door, his pants slung low around his hips. "Okay, okay, I'm here."

She shoves the messy baby at him. "Change him. I'm changing my nightgown. And then, we're going to try him in our bed."

"What?" His tired face changes to gobsmacked. "Babies don't belong in beds. They sleep in cribs."

"Really? In cribs?" She's so tired of arguing with him that she gets snappy. "Thanks for the lecture, Dr. Sears. But he screams all night in here and I'm tired of getting no sleep. So, leave if you want to. He's sleeping with us."

Mark just frowns at her. "He can't sleep with us. What about sex?"

"Let me tell you this, bucko," says Addison, leaning forward and tapping him on his bare chest. "When you've gone through twenty hours of labour ending in an emergency C-section, have cracked nipples and a fucked-up pelvic floor and have spent the last month and a half mopping up poop and vomit on three hours of sleep, then you can ask "What about sex?" Until then, satisfying the needs of your libido is the very last thing on my mind."

With that, she stomps into the bedroom, shucks off her sodden nightgown, and pulls on a full-length cotton breastfeeding one that, thankfully, doesn't smell like baby puke. She gets into bed, turns on the light, and waits with her arms crossed.

Mark comes in with Nicky, who's dressed in a clean green sleeper and wrapped in a soft blanket. "Here you go, little guy." Mark crinkles his eyes at the baby, who sighs gustily, and hands him off to Addison, who lays him gingerly on the mattress, making sure the blankets are far away from his face.

It's like waiting for a time bomb – they both hold their breaths. Sure enough, Nicky wrinkles his face in annoyance and begins to cry.

"Damn! Will this child never sleep?" Addison's voice cracks and to her horror, she begins to cry. Mark's face softens and he leans down next to her, drawing her into his arms.

"I'm sorry, babe," he whispers and she buries her face in his shoulder, sniffling a little bit. He rubs her sore back, sore from holding the baby because he won't let her put him down, and she calms down.

"I need you to be more understanding," she whispers. "I just, I realize you're tired too, but I need you to help me with him. I know about babies and how to cut them open but I don't know what to do with them when they can't sleep or cry all the time. I'm in the dark, here."

"You're doing such a great job," he smiles, and strokes her hair. They both turn their attention to Nicky, who has been pumping his arms and legs and shrieking loud enough to wake the dead. Mark picks him up and rocks him, and then gives him to Addison. She holds him in the football hold and opens her nightgown again.

"I've given so many women so much advice about breastfeeding, never knowing how hard it is," she mentions as the baby latches on.

Mark nods. "I can't tell ya."

Nicky's eyes close and he slips off Addison's nipple. She gently lowers him to the mattress and switches off the light, curling around him. Mark rolls onto his side to watch the baby sleep.

Five minutes pass and the baby doesn't wake up. Mark grins.

"Okay, you were right."

Addison grins back. "I'm always right."

Mark chuckles and turns onto his back, closing his eyes. Addison closes her eyes, too, but is startled when he speaks again.

"He's out by preschool. I'm not waiting that long for sex."

Addison laughs and looks down at her baby. "Fair enough."


End file.
